


Star-Crossed Serenade

by diningwithpsychopaths



Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF, Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cowboy Bebop AU, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:25:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diningwithpsychopaths/pseuds/diningwithpsychopaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is a bounty hunter who, when not catching bounties, spends his days smoking and sleeping on his little ship with his dogs. This changes when his former boss Jack Crawford, Head of the Murder Investigations Department for the Mars Police, asks him to help with a capture for half the bounty: Hannibal the Cannibal. The problem is, is that Hannibal and Will have an intimate past together that left Will almost dead. Now, however, Will agrees to help Crawford and tells himself it's for the money, but the moment he speaks with Hannibal he is once again drawn back into the dance that comes with trying to pin down the infamous cannibalistic serial killer.</p><p>set in the Cowboy Bebop Universe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spurred on by tumblr user hannigram who simply said "cowboy bebop au" and I had to write it because yes. Also the title is subject to change. Not beta read

Will slouched on the couch, his legs crossed on the coffee table as he drifted in and out consciousness. His cigarette was nearly burned to the butt and the last of the ash clung to the cigarette. Will let out a small snore and the ash fell, plopping onto his faded plaid shirt.

“What the hell?!”

Will jerked awake, his body tense and chest burning. He looked down and saw the ash stain on his shirt and he gave a defeated sigh. He needed to stop falling asleep with a cigarette in his mouth, but there was nothing else to do but sleep and smoke. Will stretched and reached into his jacket to pull out his carton of cigarettes, but he was met with the disappointment of an empty box. Will frowned but tossed the box onto the coffee table and leaned back again. He could get up and grab another carton, problem was that he wasn't even sure there was another one. He'd been lazing around his little ship, the Ravenstag, for a few days now and that meant a whole lot of chain smoking, in fact he was sure the air in the ship was smokier than usual thanks to his habit, but he couldn't help it. There hadn't been any good bounties to go after which meant no work for him.

Will folded his arms behind his head and gave a wry grin, his lips missing the slenderness of the cigarette between them. Maybe he could play with his dogs, lord knows what they've been doing these past few days what with food running short due to a lack of money. It had been almost three weeks since Will's last catch and the perp wasn't even that much, just 700,000 woolongs. Enough to repair his fighter ship and get the dogs a few weeks food plus some for himself. They were probably sulking just like him in their room, or they could be getting into things. Normally his dogs were well behaved but when the food started running short some of them took to eating Will's toilet paper. 

Will chewed on his bottom lip, trying to remember if he had shut the bathroom door properly and wondered if he should go check. Before he could make a decision the cracked monitor next to his feet began to sizzle with static and Will rose an eyebrow, hoping it was work.

The screen soon smoothed out, though still a bit fuzzy, on the face of Jack Crawford, head of the Mars' Police Murder Investigation Unit. Jack looked put out, the ever present bags under his eyes more prominent than usual and Will kept back a smile. If Jack looked this worn out it had to be some high-priced bounty he needed Will to catch.

“Hey Jack,” Will greeted, leaning forward.

“Hello Will.”

“Got something for me?”

Jack gave a bitter half-smile, he had always appreciated Will never bothering with greeting formalities, it let them get straight to the point.

“As a matter of fact I do.”

“Thank god, if this bounty dry spell goes on any longer I might have to start begging Bev to have me over for dinner.”

Jack gave a solemn nod. Beverly Katz was Will's sometimes partner in bounty-hunting, and while she was great with a gun she had no skills in the kitchen.

“So whad'ya have for me Jack?”

“Hannibal the Cannibal.”

A pause lingered after those words like the aftertaste of rotten milk and Will leaned back in his couch.

“Now hear me out Will-”

“Sorry Jack but that's not my job any more. I go after bounty's, not serial killers.”

“Well this serial killer's got a bounty on his head, a big one and no one else can catch him,” Jack tried to reason.

Will reached his hand into his jacket pocket for his cigs, but then remembered he had just smoked the last of them. He tched and crossed his arms over his stomach.

“And neither can I,” Will stated firmly. His hope for more money had washed away with the cold sweat that prickled on his neck at the bounty's name. He would have to go after some small fry.

“Don't be like that Will, you caught him once.”

“Yeah,” Will spat, “because he killed me.”

“You're alive aren't you,” Jack parried. 

Will gave his former boss a glare and tightened his arms around himself, pressing on the long scar that covered his abdomen. It sparked the memories of a dark kitchen and strong hands holding him close as a peeling knife sank into his skin and jerked down.

“Not for a lack of trying on his part,” Will said with a glower. He wanted his cigarettes, he wanted this conversation to be over. “Remember last time I had contact with him? He sent the Red Dragon after me and took even more.”

Jack's eyes glanced over the long scar running down the left side of Will's face and he gave a sigh, but Will could tell he wasn't done trying. Normally Will admired Jack's to-the-end determination, but not with this. 

“I need you on this Will. I already have my best people on it but I need you too.”

“For what? Want me to swoop through the stars like some cowboy looking for vengeance and nab him? You and I both know that the Wendigo can't be tracked, not even Bev could find it.”

“I don't need you to take him down in his ship,” Jack said. “Look we think we know where he's going to be in three days. There's an auction for some old Earth art on Mars, and you know Lecter, he won't be able to resist.”

Will chewed on the inside of his cheek, hating that he was starting to think about it. If it was at an auction it could be easier to take Lecter down. Lecter never used guns and he had too much class to take a hostage, but still he was slippery.

“You wouldn't have to go in it alone either,” Jack assured him. “I have a small team going in as waiters. Price, Zeller, Lass, and it's being led by one of my best, Clarice Starling.”

Will gave a grunt. They were officers he could work with, though it could get a little tense between him and Zeller it should be be fine. 

“If you've got Starling what do you need me for? I heard she almost caught Lecter herself,” Will said, but he knew she wasn't enough. The good Doctor might have had interest enough to engage Starling for a few weeks, but they had never made contact. No, if Lecter was going to be caught it had to know someone inside and out.

“You know why,” Jack said quietly.

Will looked away from the monitor and out one of the windows at the depth-less black of space with pinpricks of stars winking at him like a secret between lovers. Will's thumb began to trace where he knew the ridge of the scar Lecter had given him was.

“How do you even know he's going to be there?” Will demanded. Hannibal was like a mist hovering in the distance of space, gone before you arrived and you question whether it was even there to begin with or just a trick of the eye, desperate for color in the vast darkness. 

“Because Bedelia du Maurier's name is on the guest list,” Jack said.

Will nodded. Bedelia du Maurier had been Hannibal's psychiatrist back before Will began to get suspicious of Lecter, his hackles rising as with every moment Will got closer to killing Lecter seemed to be more encouraging. Du Maurier was also the only person in the beginning to believe Will when he began making inquiries into Lecter's background and what he did in his free time; past the noble pursuit of medicine and the psychology, past the dinner parties and the time spent with Will. Bedelia had given Will the courage to search but before he could find anything she had disappeared. After Hannibal had gone on the run there had been a few instances that du Maurier's name had popped up but had traced back to nothing, just rumors and those rumors pointed in the vague direction of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

“What do I have to do?” Will asked softly, almost as if he were caution should someone overhear.

“I just need you to be the bait.”

Will gave a bitter grin, the scar on his facing bunching up grotesquely. “Of course.”

“Hear me out Will. It's going to be an auction for the upper class, and most likely a lot of what's going to be on display shouldn't be there, but that's not my department. All I need is Lecter, and I need to nab him somewhere there won't be any commotion so get him interested. Say you've been looking for him on your own, I don't care what exactly you tell him, but I need you to get him to the rendezvous point so Starling can make the arrest.”

“If you arrest him, how am I supposed to collect the bounty/” Will asked. He already knew the plan had a slim chance of working. Hannibal was inhumanly perceptive, and while Will had fooled him in the past, it had only been once and had come at a great cost.

“Don't worry Graham, you'll get your half of the bounty.”

Will nodded, Jack was a man of his word, one of the few still on the police force. “So when exactly is this shin-dig?” Will inquired, easing his his fingers from clutching at his arms and relaxing some. 

“Three days from now, Thursday at 6pm at the Speigel Hotel in uptown,” Jack informed him. “I'll send you the specifics later.”

“Right.”

“And one more thing, do you still own any of your suits?”

Will stilled himself to keep from tightening his arms around himself again. “I still have one or two of them. Don't know if they fit any more though.”

“Well find out and let me know by tomorrow morning. You have to be wearing a suit if you want to mix in with that crowd.”

“So I won't be a fumbling waiter?” Will joked and Jack gave him a frown.

“I'll contact you later. Thanks for this Will.”

“Later then, Jack.”

The monitor's image fizzled out and Will stretched his arms over the top of the couch and tilted his head up. After five years of trying to forget, of never taking his short off in front of a mirror and wandering through space collecting bounties Will was finally going to go after Hannibal again. Will gave a dry chuckle as he stared at the smudged metal ceiling of his ship. Well it was bound to happened sometime, Will supposed. Hannibal had said they were like two masses caught in each other's gravitational pull, destined to collide eventually, Will just hoped that he would be the one to walk away with less damage this time. 

~

Will tugged at his tie, he had fastened it a little too tightly around his neck and it didn't help his nerves any. He had still fitted into the suits he had kept from his past life with Lecter, and while the suit jacket strained against his stomach, it wasn't too noticeable, at least it wouldn't be too out of place among the elite. The suit's cut and cloth was expensive enough that he would mix in, the fact that it was at least a decade old and the added inches on his stomach just meant he probably looked like a rich guy who was still clinging to the vestiges of his status, which he was OK with. It meant no one would really try and make conversation with him.

Before he entered the hotel, though he had to meet up with Jack's team to go over their plan. Will walked into a mostly empty diner a few blocks away from the hotel and spotted Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price trying to fix each others bowties while Miriam Lass and a woman who had to be Clarice Starling talked. There were cups of coffee on their table, but either they had already been drunk or they had gone cold.

Will approached the table. Lass noticed him and gave him a strained smile, and Will looked away. He didn't want her feeling bad for him, he wasn't here to be pities as the broken toy Lecter had tossed aside. Lass gave a cough and nodded towards will and the other officers looked over at him.

“Hey Graham,” Price said with a friendly smile.

“Hey Price,” Will responded as he took the empty seat at their table.

“Clarice Starling, I'm heading this arrest,” Starling said and held out her hand for Will to take.

Starling was a person who Will could see would make a name for herself, though he didn't know if being a leader was her calling. Her voice was a little too clear cut and while he could see that she took pride in being handed the position of heading this arrest, he could tell that she probably worked better on her own, without anyone to look after or red tape her.

Will grasped Starling's hand briefly and focused his gaze on her sharp cheekbones.

“Will Graham, I'm the bait,” he said sardonically.

Starling gave him a frown but Will just gave her a small grin.

“Right, so you got the briefing from Crawford?” she asked.

“Yup. I'm to casually approach Lecter and get him interested and afterward if he's amiable I take him to the rendezvous point,Valentine Restaurant.”

“And if not?” Starling asked.

“If he isn't up to dinner I make plans to see him again,” Will said as if reciting an engine manual.

“Good. Now remember, don't approach him too quickly or he might bolt and don't seem too obvious. If he suspects anything-”

“Oh he'll expect something,” Will said. “Lecter has a way of picking up on even the smallest lie, but don't worry. I know just how he likes to be lied to.”

Starling stiffened a bit and Price and Zeller gave a chuckle, which Will appreciated. No point in trying to dress this up other than it was; Will was the virgin being served to the appetite of the lusty demon and that was that.

“We'll be around so don't worry,” Lass said and Will gave her another smile.

“The only thing I'm worried about is how I'm going to feed my dogs if this doesn't work,” Will joked and Lass gave him an unsure smile.

“Here is the listening device so we can communicate,” Starling said as she slid the wiring across the sticky yellow table surface. Will didn't touch them.

“Lecter will notice if I'm wearing that; if you don't want him bolting first thing then no listening device.”

Starling looked like she was about to argue but Price jumped in. “If you need us just signal,” he said and Will nodded. Will remembered the procedures and tricks from back when he worked with Jack, he would be fine, and besides he didn't really want the others to listen to his conversation with Hannibal. Of course Will had nothing to hide, but the thought of someone else listening to them made his stomach churn slightly.

“Well then if we're done figuring everything out we need to get our asses over to the Hotel. We don't want to be late for our first catering jobs,” Zeller said.

They officers got up while Will stayed seated since he still had another hour to kill  
.  
“Good luck Graham,” Zeller said and Price gave him a thumbs up. Will nodded with a grin that dropped the moment they all made for the exit. 

~

The Speigel Hotel ballroom teemed with the some of the wealthiest of the solar system's upper class, their perfumes and aftershaves clotting the air as a pretentious reminder of money and Will had to stick close to one of the windows which was thankfully cracked. He wondered how Hannibal was faring with his sensitive nose because while these scents weren't as abrasive as the aftershave Will used to wear, combined they were rather claustrophobic.

Will looked out over the patrons with a frown, all of these people had come to spend ridiculous amounts of money on pieces of art from the far off past and Will couldn't understand it. Sure the concept of beauty wasn't lost on him, but Will preferred to find beauty in more mundane things, of course since he had become a bounty hunter there were less opportunities to see beauty, stuck in his little ship, covered with dog hair and aged metal that only served a practical use. Of course once in awhile Will would spend an hour or so in the captain's seat, large windows before him showing him all of space with its constellations and the smudge of color from space dust. Sometimes Will tried to see if he could pick out the constellation Hannibal had taught him a lifetime ago when they would take picnics in the cool night air. Out on the outskirts of the city where the Mars government allowed some nature and wildlife to thrive, the oxygen walls looming behind them as they laid on a blanket, huddled together to stay warm as Hannibal pointed out constellations and told him about the fabled ones mapped from Earth which held the mythology of ancient civilizations. Of course the stars Will saw form his ship were neither the mythos of Earth or the ones Hannibal created for him on Mars, but sometimes, when he had gone a few weeks without seeing anyone but his dogs he liked to pretend.

“Champagne, sir?”

Will focused back on the ballroom before him to see Starling holding a tray out for him and looking annoyed. He gave her a sweet smile that got a blink of surprise, though she kept her irritated look, perfect for an underpaid caterer even if it wasn't the real reason.

“Thanks,” he said and let his smile grow.

Starling nodded and walked off and Will let his gaze linger on her retreating form as if he were a spoiled heir who had already blown through most of his inheritance but who still lived by the extravagant pleasures of the rich. He took a drink from the champagne, pleased to find it bubbly and almost on par with the stuff Hannibal would serve during special events, but Will didn't focus on the lingering taste for too long. He couldn't get lost in the past, right now he had to focus on his bounty, this was just work, just another pay check, a very large paycheck. Will took a deep breath, his suit jacket straining around his sides, and then knocked back the rest of the champagne, ignoring the memories that came with the alcohol.

Thirty minutes in Will had managed to blend in with the crowd, no one gave him suspicious looks but also no one tried to approach him, the air of rotting money and status settling around him as he stood too close to some of the pictures while holding himself like a Prince. The scar on his face also helped, allowing the question of just what sort of fortune he could have inherited.

The auction wouldn't begin for another another twenty minutes and most of the attendees were content to sip their champagne and snack on the hors d'oeuvres as they chatted with one another, most of them having come knowing which pieces they wanted to take home with them and some of them only barely rich enough to be allowed in company, but not a threat when it came to the bidding. He had yet to spot Lecter and none of the officers had give him any looks to indicate that they had caught sight of the Doctor, and so Will was beginning to wonder if Hannibal had somehow known they would try to nab him, or if perhaps the man had simply decided to skip out on the auction. Part of Will hoped that Lecter wasn't there, but the ballroom was big and there were over a hundred people in attendance so it was possible that Lecter had escaped their notice thus far.

Will found himself before a picture of a man kissing a woman who was half human, half statue, the painting not too old though, barely past a century and a half old so it wasn't attracting too much attention, but something about it had caught Will's eye, reminding him of Hannibal's aesthetic. The dark tones of the background but the rich color of the sculptor's tunic and the white of the statues legs, but mostly it was the scene depicted. The love the sculptor had for his creation, it made Will's abdomen scar give a twinge he was sure was psychosomatic.

“Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean-Léon Gérôme,” a rich but soft voice behind Will said.

Will tensed slightly, his scar twinging again and his grip on the champagne flute in his fingers tightened slightly. Will took a deep breath as if to calm his nerves, the presence of the man behind him almost close enough for the top of his arm to brush against Will's shoulders. He caught a warm scent, different from the demanding perfumes of the people around them, it was slightly spicy and had a way of asserting its presence without being intrusive.

“A man in love with his own creation,” Will murmured so that only the man behind him could hear. He could already feel the tension manifesting between them and he knew that this was not going to be a quick job. Of course he had known from the beginning, but he had ignored the truth that came with engaging with Hannibal Lecter.

“Almost. Originally a short story from Ovid's Metamorphosis; it is a gift from the goddess Venus to Pygmalion who desired a wife as beautiful as the statue he created.”

“The narcissism of the artist, falling prey to the beauty of their own work,” Will snorted.

“Is it narcissism if she is human?”

“Of course, he still created her.”

Will took a step back and the man behind him accommodated him so that their shoulders barely brushed. Will stole a quick look out of the corner of his eye to take in Hannibal Lecter. The man still stood a few inches taller than Will himself, still a bit wider in the shoulders, but where Will had gained in fat Hannibal had lost. His waist coat did not protrude as much as it had when they had let themselves grow a bit fatter from sweets fed by one another fingers, every last drop of syrup and dusting of sugar licked clean from their fingertips. Hannibal looked ahead at the painting, his micro smile caught between vagueness and pride.

“You could even call it the arrogance of God,” Will said and Hannibal's smile grew just a bit more, but this time Will could see that it was merely amused.

“I do not think that the goddess Venus would have appreciated such an interpretation as she is the deity of the painting,” Hannibal said. 

“She is the catalyst,” Will said. 

Hannibal chuckled. “You never were very good with the literature of the ancient worlds. The love you speak of, agape, is unconditional.”

“And yet he desired her for her beauty, beauty he gave her,” Will said. He wasn't sure if what he was saying was the right thing, and it was all he could do not to just suggest they ditch the auction and go to dinner now. The smell of the man was making him feel lightened and Will wanted to be done with it.

“Are you here to purchase one of the paintings?” Hannibal inquired, his body turning slightly to face Will, blocking the painting from the conversation. His tone let on that he knew that Will had not come to buy any art, but he wanted to hear Will's answer.

Will kept his expression nonchalant. He could excuse the stiffness of his body at Hannibal's first arrival to surprise, but now he had to act to the best of his abilities, to bring back the facade he had maintained back before Hannibal had been exposed as the monster he was.

“I am here because I figured you would be here,” Will replied, also turning to meet Hannibal's gaze, well sort of. He focused on the man's cheekbones, more gaunt than defined. He could feel Hannibal's eyes taking him him, lingering on the long scar from his run in with the Red Dragon and then settling for more than a polite moment or two on Will's abdomen. Will kept his expression controlled but couldn't push down the inappropriate spark of arousal that came from Hannibal's eyes on the very spot he had marked him.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, his eyes locked on Will's, waiting for Will to meet his gaze. “Since you came to the trouble, would you do me the honor of being on my arm for the remainder of the auction?” Hannibal asked.

“Only if you promise I don't have to make anymore pretentious art talk.”

Hannibal gave him a genuine smile. “Do you not like the painting?” he asked, giving a small nod towards the sculptor and his creation.

“I do, but I'm sure that I won't fool anyone here with my abysmal knowledge of the world of art.”

“You won't need to impress anyone,” Hannibal assured him and offered his arm. Will hesitated a moment, he hadn't minded playing the lure but to actually touch Hannibal. Will mentally shook himself, he was a bounty hunter, this was his job. Of course he had never had to seduce any of his bounties, but there was a first for everything and he had known that Hannibal would require special handling. He just had to keep himself accountable so that he didn't get lost in another game with the man. 

Will placed his hand in the crook of Hannibal's elbow and Hannibal laid his hand over his, his hand warm and dry just as before.

“I'm not as pretty as when you used to take me to the opera,” Will said and he swore he could fell Hannibal tense for a moment, but it left before Will could process it and he wondered if he had imagined his own tension flowing into Hannibal.

“Perhaps not to them,” Hannibal said and gave Will's hand a pat.

Will and Hannibal strolled past the paintings, Hannibal pausing occasionally to inspect a piece of art, even asking Will's opinion for a few of them. While they toured the art Will caught sight of Price who didn't stare at Hannibal and Will more than a second before turning to another guest, but Will caught the slight nod from Price to let him know that now that Will had Lecter, all he needed to do was sit through the auction and then suggest dinner. 

The auction wasn't very interesting and Will found himself paying more attention to Hannibal than the art being sold. The man really had lost weight since they had both lived on Mars and enjoyed the closet they could to a normal life. Now Hannibal had a gauntness to him that made his skull protrude even more against his skin and his eyes, already a dark maroon, seemed duller, more brown than the scarlet they had sometimes acquired when the firelight burned low in Hannibal's bedroom. This was not very surprising since Hannibal lived on the run, probably spending most of his time on his ship, the Wendigo, and while Will had no doubts that Lecter indulged once in awhile in the pleasures of excess he so adored such as this auction, Will knew that he could not enjoy them for too long. Perhaps a night or two at a high-end hotel or a dinner at a classy restaurant where the meal matched some of the bounties Will caught, but it was all temporary.

Will shifted in his seat, his knee brushing against Hannibal's and the corner of the older man's lips twitched. Will almost felt bad for bringing him in, almost. He still hadn't forgotten what Lecter, hadn't forgotten the long list of names Hannibal had killed, some of whom he had fed to Will and others. Of course Will's skin still tingled so near this man who had shown Will that even a broken man like himself could be loved, but the scar on Will's stomach and face paid reminder of who had been the last one to break him.

Only half an hour remained in the auction, most of the paintings and artifacts already sold off to the preening upper class. Hannibal had yet to make a bid and Will wondered if Hannibal wasn't as rich as he had assumed, and if the man had only come to look at the art from a time period that was all but washed away among the ruins of Earth. Will took a closer look at the man beside him to see if he could find any wear in the suit, too see if it sagged at all on his leaner frame, but the suit fitted just as well as the suits Hannibal had worn when he could indulge in rich foods more than once a week. Perhaps nothing had caught Hannibal's eye and the thinness was simply due to his age and the stress that must come with meticulously covering his tracks and staying out of the grasp of bounty hunters and law enforcement. 

“Up next we have Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean-Léon Gérôme, painted sometime in the late 19th century. It is a beautiful rendition of the piece from Ovid's Metamorphosi. We will begin the bidding at 15,000,000 woolongs? 15,000,000? 15,000,000 from the lady in the back, anyone for 16,000,000? 16,000,000 from the lady in the red coat. Would anyone like to raise to 17,000,000? 17,000,000 to the gentleman in the green suit. How about-”

“25,000,000,” called a woman near the front.

“25,000,000,” the auctioneer called. “Would anyone like to raise?”

“40,000,000,” Hannibal called.

Will looked at Hannibal, his eyes open. Hannibal might have hid away enough money to indulge his extravagant tastes, but to spend 40,000,000 woolongs on a painting? That was beyond excessive.

The crowds eyes were also on Hannibal, many of them whispering, trying to figure out who the handsome gentleman was. Many of their curious stares turned hostile when they caught sight of Will beside Hannibal, the scar on Will's face turning their whispers to assumption of mafia money.

The auctioneer called for any raises to Hannibal's bid, but no one put forth anymore bids.

“Sold to the gentleman in dark blue suit. Please claim your gift after the auction.”

Will looked over at Hannibal who had a small smug smile on his lips, and Will almost felt bad that Hannibal had spent all of that money for nothing. Will wished he had his handcuffs on him, or even a gun so that he could make the arrest early and be done with it. He could do it while Hannibal went to pick up the painting, quickly and with no room for the man to escape. Of course Will knew Jack would give him an ear full for going against the plan, but Will didn't work for Jack and besides even if he was blunt with the arrest knew that Hannibal wasn't going to be that easy to catch. 

“That was a lot of money for just a painting,” Will whispered, his chest brushing against Hannibal's shoulder. 

“Money is not an issue when it comes to beauty,” Hannibal said.

Will gave a wry grin.

“Says the man who just spent 40,000,000 woolongs on a painting that has a few smudges. No one really cares about Earth art anymore, it's all just for status. Trust me, I've caught plenty of art thieves to know.” 

Will wasn't concerned about talking about his job, he had no doubts that Hannibal knew what he did, and when Jack had cautioned him not to bring it up he had laughed. He would get much further in cornering Hannibal with as much as the truth as possible, because that was what he would have to do if he wanted Hannibal's bounty and the peace that the monster had finally been caged. It had never been simple with Hannibal, it was an intricate dance, one where each move has to be preplanned to fit the style of your partner, hoping that as the tempo sped up it wasn't you who tripped first. He just hoped hat Hannibal thought that Will wasn't foolish enough to catch him in a place like this.

“Perhaps,” Hannibal conceded. He then let the tips of his fingers brush the top of Will's thigh, as if by accident. “But even a bounty hunter knows that when the perfect catch presents itself, it cannot be bypassed.”

Will caught Hannibal’s gaze directly for the first time that night and sucked in a small gasp. A small glint of red had welled in around the man's pupil's and Will felt as if he were being held once again, kept it place by a warm embrace and a knife in his gut. 

Hannibal gave him a minute grin and then turned his attention back to the auction, leaving Will to calm his elevated heart rate. Hannibal's words could have meant so many things, but Will knew, he knew that Hannibal was aware that he was there to collect the bounty on his head. How much did he know, though? Had Hannibal spotted the officers, he had never meet Zeller or Price before and Lass had gained weight along with shorter hair that now a dark brown. He must have spotted Starling, they had never met but Will had read about Starling's almost captured of the infamous cannibal serial killer and there had been pictures of her in the papers and on the news. Will tried to keep relaxed, but the psychosomatic ache in his abdomen had started up and he felt the need to run his fingers over it, but he couldn't. He had to go through with this, needed to for peace of mind. He needed Hannibal behind bars once and for all, but how to do so now that the monster knew that it was being hunted? He had known going in that Hannibal would most likely pick up on the ruse, though he had hoped that Hannibal would believe that Will wasn't going to try to catch him alone. Hannibal had to know there were others, he knew Will wasn't so foolhardy to go at it alone.

After the auction Will had to wait for Hannibal to collect his painting from the back room as only the winners were allowed in the back. Will leaned against one of the walls near a window, the golden light of sunset throwing his shadow long against the ballroom carpet, the pink glass of the chandeliers bathing the room in a rosy glow. The staff were cleaning up while a few people chatted while they waited for their dates come back back with their art.

Will wished he had a pack of cigarettes on him, needing to release the anxiety that had built up in him go, but it would have ruined the cut of the suit even more than his widened girth did. He kept his hands in his pockets, determined not to touch the spot where his scar was hidden beneath the expensive, faded cloth. 

“Graham.”

Will looked over to see Starling picking up empty champagne flutes from the table near him.

“Has Lecter given you an answer?” Starling asked, her voice low.

“I haven't asked him yet,” Will answered.

“Why not?”

Will shrugged. “The opportunity hasn't presented itself.”

Starling paused in cleaning and took a deep breath as if to calm herself. “Will it present itself before you leave the Hotel?”

“Maybe,” Will said and Starling nearly shattered the glass in her grip. He knew she was stressed, this was probably her biggest case and she had already failed once and she couldn't fail again. Not when Lecter was so close, but she didn't understand that Hannibal could be in the same room and still slip from your grasp like the embrace of a spurned lover. “Look if I force things he'll know and we can't afford to have his hackles raised,” Will told her. There was no point in stressing her out even more with the information that Hannibal was already wise to Will's intentions.

“Well make the moment happen, I don't care if you have to throw yourself at him like a prostitute, get him to Valentine Restaurant tonight.”

Will gave her a tight smile. “I'll do my best.”

Starling gave a firm nod and then walked away, leaving the table still half full of champagne flutes and plats of a cheese and tomato hors d'oeurves that had already begun to spoil in the waning light of the summer day.

Hannibal was soon out and he caught Will's eye before Will could even begin to approach. Will gave the man a small smile and Hannibal walked over to him, no painting under his arm. He must be having it delivered whatever hotel he was staying at. Will wondered if he should tip one of the officers to see if the auctioneer would give them the address.

“You are beautiful highlighted by the sunset,” Hannibal complemented once he was close enough to touch Will. “Your curls look like a ring of saint's light and the shadow beneath your bottom lip betrays just how full your lips are.”

Will gave a blush that reflected the rose color the cream colored carpet had acquired from the reflection off of the chandeliers.

“You've become sentimental,” Will mumbled. 

“No my dear Will, I simply have more of an appreciate for beautiful moments given to me in the present,” Hannibal said as he held his arm out to Will. “They come fleetingly and I find myself missing the joy of experiencing them.”

Will slipped his hand back onto Hannibal's arm and allowed himself to be led out of the ballroom.

“Do you want to prolong the moment then?” Will asked, his side gently brushing against Hannibal's with every step they took. Will's skin demanded to be pressed closer, its sensitivity to Hannibal's presence almost as potent as if their skin moved against each others without the barrier of clothing. “Dinner?”

They had reached the lobby of the hotel, some of the guests of the auction still lingering, making last minute plans for the night along with other's waiting for dates to arrive or come down. Hannibal paused and turned his body to face Will completely, taking the younger man's hands in his own. 

“I would love to my dear Will, but I am afraid that I am otherwise engaged tonight,” Hannibal declined.

The butterflies that had been becoming frantic in Will's stomach died and he felt cold. He tried to tell himself that it was because Hannibal was going to slip away once again, that the monster would be free to roam and he could do nothing to stop him, but butterflies don't sprout wings for the capture of a bounty.

“Another time, though?” Hannibal suggested.

Will lifted his eyes to meet Hannibal's. “If you can find the time.”

“For you I would stop all the clocks in the solar system.”

“Except for tonight,” Will pouted.

Hannibal gave a chuckle. “It is unfortunate.”

Before Will could ask for how to contact Hannibal, the man pulled Will close and gently ran the tip of his nose against Will's cheek. Will froze and his fingers clutched Hannibal's hands.

“Until next time my beautiful William,” Hannibal whispered. He let his nose glide back along Will's cheek and then pressed his lips against Will's, chaste but with a promise of more that Will couldn't help but lean into if only a little. And Will knew he would hate himself for this later while he lay in his bed and stared at the ugly ceiling of his tiny bedroom in his ship while his dogs snuggled close, but the feel of Hannibal's lips against his once more made him momentarily forget that Hannibal was a bounty to be captured for a reward. Made the memories of betrayal and pain and long months recovering fuzzy as Hannibal's breath mingled with his once again.

And then Hannibal was gone and Will was left standing alone in the lobby of the Hotel, his reward vanished along with the fleeting moment of happiness he had first lost over decade ago when Hannibal had left him to bleed out on their kitchen floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will goes hunting for Hannibal, but as always Hannibal is one step ahead of him.

A day passed. And then another, and then it was a week and Will still had no word from Hannibal. Jack had been furious that Hannibal had not been caught, but after he had cooled down he admitted that he hadn't actually expected it to be so easy. He was mollified that they had a promise from Hannibal to see Will again, though when that would be, no one knew.

Will had phoned in every evening for the first three days to see if Hannibal had left anything for him with the police since Lecter was audacious enough to make such a move, but every day was met with nothing and after the third time wasn't lucky Will resigned himself to waiting. After a week had passed Will figured that it could take anywhere from a month to a year until he would see Hannibal again. Of course Hannibal wouldn't be so quick to get to the ending, he enjoyed savoring the foreplay of a chase too much.

The fan in the living room of Will's ship creaked above, mixing in with the sour notes that came from the old rag-time piano Will had shoved into a corner of the room. Will absently pressed on keys as he thought about what Hannibal could be doing at the moment. His train of thought strung along by the tune his fingers wandered through, aided by muscle memory. The piano was a relic from his past, one of the few things he'd loaded onto his ship from the house he used to live in back when he was a cop on Mars. It had come with the house but besides a few drunken renditions of hot-cross buns on really bad nights, he'd never used it, that was until Hannibal came into his life. Hannibal had sought to fill Will's life with culture and beauty, and that included knowing how to play a decent tune on his piano.

A particularly sharp note which should have been flat rang out and Will's eyes focused on the keys before him, a wry grin on his lips. The note belonged to a serenade by some long dead composer from Earth, whose name was as important to Will as the individual stars in space, but he did recall that Hannibal had a strong fondness for the serenade. Will vaguely recalled a story about poets and beloveds and he let his fingers play out the next few measures of the piece, even if it was painfully out of tune. Though perhaps that made it all the more enjoyable to him, and if he remembered correctly the part he was playing had something to do with torment and a double: “Der Doppelgänger.” So why shouldn't it sound a little off, grappling with projected madness made people wonky so why shouldn't sound off key?

How strange, though, that, that was the serenade Will remembered, that particular section even. If Hannibal were there he would chuckle at the parallel, always finding amusement in the morbid, especially when it came to Will. The notes clanged against the metal walls of the room and Will's dogs looked over at him with soft whines from where they lounged on the two threadbare couches. Will ignored them though and the last few notes came as a bang to reverberated through his body, even though he knew they should be soft; a defeated sigh as the man accepts his madness.

The dogs whined louder and Will took his hands away from the piano. He turned in his seat and gazed out the wide window above where the cockpit was. Space was vast before him with only stars and the occasional purplish space dust hanging in the void as he drifted through. He knew he couldn't sit around and wait any longer; it may be Hannibal's move but that did not mean Will should be complacent.

Will left the piano and budged one of the dogs over so he can sit on the couch and start up his monitor. What he needed was a bounty, preferably some rich sod who got himself in trouble with the law, some mastermind with a taste for high-end parties and company. Will knew that getting a direct location for Hannibal would be impossible, but no matter how above the riff-raff of crime Hannibal thought himself, there were bound to be rumors of him in the unsavory circles. 

There were a few bounties to choose from, the crime dry spell from a few weeks ago having passed and the bad kids were out playing once more. Will decided to go for a former accountant of a major company who had embezzled said company out of billions of woolongs. The last sighting of the perp was in a classy bar on Mars where she was said to be enjoying the company of the most expensive call girl on hire. 

The dog Will moved, Buster, whined and nosed at the side of Will's thigh. Will grined down at Buster and rubbed his head.

“We're heading back to Mars, Buster, and maybe this time I can get you all those bacon treats you like,” Will said.

The dogs barked and Will couldn't help but grin a bit. He knew that he was probably going to be grasping at loose ends and whispers that might only lead him to the wind, but it would be a hell of a lot better than sitting around and thinking about how Hannibal smelled in that Speigel Hotel ballroom. The sunset that filled the room casting dark shadows beneath the man's sharp cheekbones. And besides, Will and the dogs did have to eat and the only way that was going to happen was if he got off his ass and caught some bad guys.

~

A month passed and then two, and all Will has found were grumbles from drunks and whispers from bartenders whose sobriety allowed them to remember the horror attached to the name Will chased after. Whispers that now brought him to Callisto, bundled up in an old parka against the year round freezing temperatures. Will's most recent bounty was a high-end escort, Julliard Ramirez who was very popular back on Mars, but due to a recent nasty break up with one of his more violent and influential sugar daddy's Ramirez had fled to the desolate Callisto to hide out for a bit. What made this bountry particularly attractive was that Will had heard from a bartender who worked at one of the fancier hotels in Mars that Ramirez had gotten rather drunk before leaving and had split his drink on an older gentleman who fit Hannibal's description. It was a long shot but Will knew what sort of prey Hannibal liked to hunt, and a split drink without an apology was enough to land Ramirez on Hannibal's grocery list, not to mention the guy was pretty enough that Hannibal's artistic nature would not be able to pass up such an opportunity. Will just needed to find Ramirez first in case Hannibal came calling.

Will's boots crunched the snow as he made his way to the bar Ramirez was rumored to frequent, the Rester House; apparently the escort's uncle ran the bar and Ramirez could be found there every Wedensday night listening to jazz and drinking cheap whiskey. 

Will avoided eye-contact, but there wasn't many conscious people around, just the odd guy passed out beneath a metal awning here and there, but Will didn't want to rouse any trouble. He was a new face in this place and he had heard the scrape of metal and crunch of snow in a few of the alleyways he had passed by.

The Rester House didn't look like much, tucked between a rundown electronics shop and an abandoned building, its sign was painted in red on the smeared glass of the door, the style nothing catchy as if it were just an afterthought. Will walked up the steps and shook himself a bit to get rid of any snow that had rested on him and then walked inside.

It wasn't a spacious place, just a few tables, the bar, and a small stage where a saxophonist crooned a melody that sounded nostalgic even though Will knew he'd never heard it before. There were only a few customers, one passed out in the corner and the other two letting the ash from their cigars drip onto their jackets, their cups sweating between their fingers as they lost themselves to the tune. Will sat down at the bar and raised his hand to grab the bartender's attention.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” Will said.

“Haven't seen you around here before,” the bartender said. He was a tall man with sunken cheekbones, his fingers looked swollen but they were steady as he prepared Will's drink. Will wagered that this was the guy to talk to about Ramirez, but he had to wait a bit, let the guy get used to his presence first.

He poured Will a generous drink , his eyes lingering on the scar on Will's face. Will gave him a wry grin and knocked back his drink. He gestured for another.

“I'm just wandering through.”

“This isn't really the place people wander to.”

Will gave a soft chuckle. “I've got nowhere else to be,” he said.

He drank only half this time and then lowered the cup, swirling his drink around, the ice clonking against the sides of the glass. He turned in his chair some and watching the saxophonist skim his fingers along the keys of the instrument. The man had knobby fingers, not ones that looked like they were for making music but rather should be gripping a sledgehammer in a junkyard, but the notes strung out of the saxophone were in tune and Will could feel his eyelids begin to droop with memories. 

Jazz wasn't a genre Will normally listened to back when he lived on Mars. Back then he filled his small house with the twang of guitars and thump drums as he spent his free time fixing boat motors. Now, on occasion, when he found himself listless in the stars he'd pop in a jazz cd. There were no memories with jazz, but the tune in the bar was proving otherwise. Something about it made Will's heart feel heavy and had him catching a phantom musk of expensive after-shave and herbs among the staleness of cheap liquor and cigars that saturated the bar. 

“Thinking about a lover?”

Will turned back to the bartender who was drying a glass, a small smile on his thin lips.

“Most people do when they hear this song, it's a crowd favorite,” the bartender said. Will gave a small snort, some crowd. “It's called “Julia”, rumor has it she was the only real lady to ever come to this godforsaken place. Not much of a story, but it puts a smile on a guy's face to think about a lovely lass. Reminds them of their own woman, lost one way or another.”

Will gave a nod. He was only thinking about Hannibal because he was his end game target. Will closed his eyes, the last note of the song indulging him the ghost of warm breath against his neck and arms around his middle as he swayed to soft classical music. When the song ended Will gulped down the rest of his drink and turned his back on the saxophonist.

“Speaking of lover,” Will began. He had to be very careful in how he tread now, one wrong word would make the bartender suspicious and tight-lipped. He needed to come off a sad wanderer and not a bounty-hunter. “I've heard you might know where I can find someone for the night?”

The bartender paused in his drying and regarded Will with a guarded look. “If you want a whore there are plenty of old Queens in front of Tony's place.”

Will shook his head and made circles in the water residue on the bar with the bottom of his glass. “Rumor has it you can get a night with a pretty thing, if you know where to ask.” He gave the bartender a hopeful look.

“Sorry pal but I'm no pimp,” the bartender sneered.

“Not saying you are, just heard you might be able to point me in the right direction. I'm only here for another night before I move on from this place.”

The bartender's look was still wary, but the mention of the ability to travel lit something in his eyes, most likely greed. Will knew that the allure of a foreigner with money might be enough to get him a night with Ramirez. There was a reason Julliard Ramirez had a bounty on his head, and it wasn't for prostitution. Ramirez's night pastime was not only hunting for men with fat wallets, but also hunting for men to kill. Ramirez had allegedly killed nine men already, men who had big fortunes that had been willed to Mr. Ramirez in the event of their death, some who had just enough cash on their bodies to disappear and pay for an expensive fur coat. He was hard to catch, though, since his big sugar daddies were mafia bosses and even a rumor of a very high-ranking politician, and they all kept Ramirez protected from any cowboys looking to cash in on a bounty. However, now that Ramirez was in this hovel Will figured he had a chance, and if he had a chance then Hannibal Lecter definitely had a chance.

“Look,” Will said, “I'm just looking for someone to hold for a night without anyone talking about it the next day. Can you help me or not?”

The bartender pursed his lips slightly, but then he set down his rag and the glass and leaned in close.

“I know a guy, he's not cheap mind you. He's from Mars and he's just here for a bit, just like you.”

Will gave a smile. He had always prided himself on hooking the catch. “I've got money.”

“Go Pyke's street around 8, there's a blue apartment building. You'll want room number 54.”

“Pyke's, room number 54. Got it,” Will said. He pulled back from the bar and gave the man a smile as he took out his wallet and let the bartender get a glimpse of the wad of woolongs he had. He had figured he ought to bring cash given the run down state of this place, anything digital might not work anymore. He placed a 20 woolong on the counter. “How about another drink, cheers for a good night.”

The bartender gave Will a grin, his eyes lingering where Will had tucked his wallet back into. 

“Cheers sir.”

~

Will's breath hung around his face and he surveyed the area around the apartment he was about to enter. Not a lot of people around and no suspicious sounds from the alleyways, just grayish mounds of snow and a few old geezers huddles around a fire with a radio playing more static than music. 

Will looked down at his watch. Ten minutes to 8. He shrugged and walked into the old apartment building, its blue color almost faded to a white. Inside smelt like ash and even though the walls were mostly covered in graffiti Will could see black smudges from smoke. No one was in the lobby, or the first floor for that matter, though Will could hear muffled footsteps above him.

The staircase leading to the upstairs floors was littered with crushed cans and a shoe. Will turned into the hallway of the second floor and soon found room 54. The gold lettering was chipped. Will knocked on the door and stepped back, his fingers resting on the hilt of the gun he had hidden beneath his jacket just in case. There was no guarantee of when Ramirez would attack him. 

A minute passed but the room beyond the door remained silent. Will frowned and knocked again, but once again there was just silence. 

Dread began to fill Will as if he were in a nightmare once again and he reached for the doorknob; it turned easily in his hand and the door opened. The soft notes of a cello hummed through the apartment and Will stepped inside, his gun poised in his hand to shoot, his training as a cop guiding his movements as if he were still on the force.

“Ramirez?” Will called out.

There was no answer, just the whispers of a serenade, the occasional scratch of a needle against the record interrupting the flow of the piece and Will grimaced. He only knew of one person who still clung to the decadent relics of Earth, and he highly doubted that a spoiled escort indulged in such a whim. 

Will's grip on his gun tightened and he moved from the living; a gap in the curtains let in the faint moonlight that deepened the depth of the room's shadows. Will made his way to the bedroom, the door cracked slightly, the music growing as he got closer. He banged the door open quickly and twisted his body from side to side fast, checking in all corners, his eyes desperate to adjust to the faint light from the moon which gave the room an eerie glow. 

Nothing stirred except the glide of the needle against the record. 

The curtains in the room were open to a generous gap so as to give a back-light to the figure standing in the middle. Will's fingers began to cramp as they held the gun and he moved closer, his stomach roiling at what had been left for him, but he wasn't squeamish, never had been.

In the center of the room was a young man whose black hair was pinned up in a bun. He was upright, and poised with his back arched back and his torso leaning to the side, his right arm extended as if he were grasping someone close, his head bent as if in a kiss. Will moved in, released one hand from the gun to feel around the wall beside the door for a light switch, and when he found one he flicked it on, light flooding the room to his relief.

There was no pool of blood around the body and as Will drew closer he saw that the legs had been cast in something and painted to appear as marble. Will's expression grew grim as his mind offered a reference for the pose. Jean-Léon Gérôme's Pygmalion and Galatea. Will lowered his gun, Hannibal wasn't still in the apartment, he couldn't sense the man's presence, though when he got closer to the body there was the lingering smell of expensive aftershave and herbs. Will kept his gun in one hand, this was a rough neighborhood, and he ran his fingers through his curls.

Well fuck, he thought with a tight grin. 

The body was all closed up tight, no blood, though there were some stitches in the dark skin around the abdomen and Will gave a sigh. Of course Hannibal couldn't resist. Will walked over to the gramophone which sat on the bedside table, the tune had shifted to something with piano. There was a case for the record on the bed beside a box with a ribbon on it. Will picked up the album case. 

A Collection of Serenades

Will's snorted and tossed it back onto the bed and looked at the record to see how much time had elapsed. From the position of the needle Will discerned that it wasn't too far into the record, maybe only three serenades so like 15 or so minutes. It was that more than anything that irked Will. Hannibal still had perfect timing, he had known Will would be coming to collect Ramirez in the hope that Hannibal would come too, and he had, but he had been a step ahead of Will. Just as he always had.

Will glanced back at the body and wondered if he should replay the murder in his head. He knew it had been done with grace and precision, whenever Will had empathized with Hannibal's murder's in the past it had always felt as if Hannibal was directing him through a dance, each movement having purpose to bring out beauty. Will found his eyelids dropping, but he shook his head. He didn't need to get into Hannibal's head, he was already interlocked with the man too deeply. It would be rude though to pass up the invitation, Hannibal had even provided him music to guide his thoughts through Hannibal's display of affection. The concert master who knew the perfect way to direct the dream, if only Will was willing to plunge in and let Hannibal lead him through it.

Will took the the needle off the record and closed his eyes to the silence. He didn't need anymore dreams from Hannibal. He had already survived one nightmare and now, ever since he'd emerged alive from Hannibal's embrace in the kitchen Will felt like he was still in a dream. No need to delve deeper into the fantasy Hannibal wished to construct for them both.

Opening his eyes Will gave a small shake of his head and looked at the present on the bed. He gave it a frown, but picked it up. The present had a weight to it, but it wasn't heavy and Will had a pretty good guess that it was clothes. It was wrapped in silver wrapping with a blue bow on top; Will took no care in ripping off the wrapping, letting it fall to the floor.

Will hadn't been wrong, inside was a charcoal colored suit, probably with all the dressing too, and a piece of parchment on top. Will gave the pretentious choice of paper a sneer and set the present down, note in hand. 

Dearest William,  
I know that I promised to call on you, and it has been rude of me to have waited so long. I hope you haven't felt too lonely without me, but as we have discovered fate is fickle as to when we should be allowed to have one another. I must say I was quite surprised to see you at the auction and would if I could, I most definitely would have joined you afterwards. Now, though, as promised we can meet. I have left you two gifts, one which holds your invitation. I do hope you will come to see me, William, it has been too long since I have enjoyed your company. I also hope you will wear the suit I have chosen for you, as I noticed at the auction that your current suits are not as well-fitted as they once were. I do appreciate the sentiment that you have kept them all this time, though. Take care of yourself my dearest, and I hope to see you soon.  
Yours only,  
Hannibal Lecter 

Will snorted and stashed the note in his pocket. Of course Hannibal was going to aim to seduce Will one last time, though Will had thought he would be smart enough to realize that he wasn't going to join him. When Will had first gone after Hannibal after their bloody break-up he discovered why Hannibal had wanted him all along. Hannibal had always had the fucked up notion that he could coax Will into becoming a killer, and his pride that he could had cost them both. First on a rainy night and a second time when Will had set out to catch Hannibal the first time and was met with a fanatic of Hannibal's. The creator's way of finding out which angel was the stronger of the two. Will grimaced, his fingers hovering over the scar on his abdomen. Well Will would meet Hannibal, but he wasn't going to fall into his arms again and this time he hoped to keep it between the two of them. 

He walked back over to the body to look for the invitation Hannibal had mentioned. He didn't have to look very hard. In the palm of the body's right hand which should have been gripping the face of its creator, was a letter. Will removed it, careful not to touch the dead skin, and he tore it open, disregarding Hannibal's wax emblem.

Inside was a small piece of parchment, Hannibal's unfairly beautiful script giving only an address, date, and time:

August 14th at 7pm  
San Marco 4027  
30124 VENEZIA  
39 041 5229020  
Earth

Will frowned at the address. He had no idea where exactly on Earth that was, but knowing Hannibal is was some place of an older beauty even if the old planet was considered desolate and unwanted by everyone else. Will crumbled the parchment in his hand and shoved it into his pant pocket. Of course Hannibal would choose Earth, he had always promised to take Will there one day.

~  
Will did not inform Jack about his invitation from Lecter, in fact he hadn't had any contact with Jack Crawford for nearly a month now. Hannibal definitely wasn't lurking around Mars anymore and that was as far as Jack's jurisdiction went, which is why he had wanted Will on the case. Will should have gotten a hold of Jack right after he left Callisto, but Will found himself ignoring his transmitter radio and went straight for a shower after he'd gotten his ship on course for the closest spot of real civilization to pick up food and fuel. 

The bathroom steamed up quickly from the hot water and Will drew in a large breath as he stood under the spray. The water was almost scalding and it wouldn't last long, but he didn't care. The burn on his skin kept his mind blank for a bit and he focused on his fingers snagging in his curls as he washed his hair; the way his tattered wash cloth rubbed against his skin, the clean scent of soap sharp and distracting him from the phantom scent of blood.

The knob squeaked when Will reluctantly turned off the lukewarm water. He stood there a moment longer and a few drops of water splattered on his back. He needed to figure what to do now.

Will scrubbed himself dry, pulled on his boxers and tee-shirt and then went into the main room to sit on one of the couches. His dogs immediately huddled around him and he let them pile on his legs and at his side as he absentmindedly scratched their heads.

He could tell Jack about the body, but it wouldn't do him much good since Jack couldn't come all the way to Callisto to look at it, and besides they knew who it was. Still, the information would let Jack know that Hannibal was killing ostentatiously again, something he hadn't done for about two years now. Will frowned, if he told Jack he had found one of Hannibal's kills Jack wold want to know why Will had found it so fresh and Will didn't really want Jack interfering. Of course the man couldn't officially send people on a search for Hannibal if he wasn't on Mars, but Will knew he'd send someone. Jack wanted Hannibal bad enough for all the damage he'd inflicted on their lives, but Will wanted him more. He needed to be the one to catch Hannibal, needed to put him behind bars for his betrayal and this time he was ready to die for it.

The realization shocked Will and his fingers stiffened in his dog's fur. He had almost died for it before, but the first time he had been dazed by the reality of his discovery and the second time Hannibal had kept Will at a distance through the Red Dragon. Though that second time was just a test, Will knew that Hannibal was rooting for him, the first time he wasn't so sure.

It had been after dinner, the scene domestic as they cleaned the dishes when Hannibal had made a pun. Will couldn't even remember what exactly Hannibal had said, but in that moment he had known, something had slipped into place and he knew that the man he loved was the murderer he had been searching for, for so many years. Hannibal's perception picked up on Will's change instantly and when Will's hand had twitched towards his phone in his pocket Hannibal had him in his arms, a knife in his gut as Hannibal whispered how clever he was. Will managed to choke out a whimpered no and Hannibal had taken offense to that. There was no plea for Will to join him, no attempt to persuade Will that their love meant more than who he was. Just a press of his nose in his curls, cheek to cheek, and then he was gone.

One of the dogs whined and Will looked down and gave his pack a tight smile. He took out the note Hannibal had left him and starred at the letter's closing, Hannibal loopy signature below and a tightness formed in Will's chest. 

“Whatever happens, happens,” Will murmured to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are most welcome


End file.
